


Man in the Mirror

by Taelle



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Canon Trans Character, F/M, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-17
Updated: 2011-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-14 20:30:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taelle/pseuds/Taelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Translated from Russian for the Winterfair fest, betaed by Gwynnep.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Man in the Mirror

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Мужчина в зеркале](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/2264) by Viorteya tor Deriul. 



> Translated from Russian for the Winterfair fest, betaed by Gwynnep.

Mirror, mirror on the wall,

Who in the land is fairest of all?

 

“You are handsome…” The girl’s tender palm pressed close to his cheek.

“… fairest of them all.” The smile, warm and tender and slightly wry, makes the handsome man in the mirror look even better.

“What are you speaking about?” There’s a startled look in her wide open blue eyes. Today’s girls, concerned with becoming independent, surprisingly started reading less. Hmm…

“Oh, don’t worry; it’s just a quote from an old fairy tale.”

To be entirely truthful, of course, today’s girls weren’t reading less. They just were reading less fairy tales, choosing more substantial reading matter instead. Like stock market data and all the notes and amendments to constitutions of nearby planets. Not the worst replacement.

“Oh, that. Mother read us a lot of tales when we were little; but not that one, I think. Or, perhaps, I have forgotten it.”

“Or, perhaps, you and your sisters liked more warlike tales. I can’t really imagine anybody from your family enjoying Snow White. Stories about Amazons would be more likely.”

“So I’m not womanly enough for you?” Her indignation was entirely affected, but there was an undertone to it. A stranger wouldn’t have noticed it. Wouldn’t even have suspected it. Of course, it could’ve just been the habit of searching for a black cat in every dark room on the way.

“Olivia Koudelka!” The man in the mirror opened his eyes wide and pressed his hand to his heart. “My lady! Please believe me when I say that the legendary strong and warlike character of the women of your family does not diminish in the slightest your beauty that blinds the minds and hearts of unfortunate men.”

Olivia burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her palms, and moved aside, disappearing from the reflection in the mirror.

“Dono, this is the most absurd compliment I’ve ever heard! You are impossible!”

“I try, darling.”

The laughing girl perched at the edge of the bed covered with clothes was as alive as the blonde beauty in the mirror seemed unreal. To turn a young emancipated woman into a fairytale princess it was enough to stand her before the mirror. Then again, who knew what Livvie herself was seeing? Who was she looking at?

“By the way, for all your jokes, I am all ready for going out, unlike you! Do old habits die so hard?”

There was laughter in her blue eyes. Sincere and innocent laughter without a shade of hidden meaning.

“We are our old habits. Get used to this, my lady.” It’s an art in itself, to smile with wooden lips. The art learned so long ago that it truly became an integral part of personality. They say it’s almost impossible for a man to deceive his wife. Either the tradition lies, or someone here is no man.

“Could you just let me finish dressing?”

“Could I perhaps help you?”

That coquettish offer brought out a smile. One of the many smiles of recognition at Livvie trying out something from her stock of womanly wiles.

“Better not, darling. First of all, it could take too long, and then, I know how to dress a woman better than you know how to dress a man.”

“Are you so sure of that?”

“Livvie!” A reproachful voice. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

The future countess Vorrutyer snorted, displeased. “As you wish, my dear fiancé. I just offered to help.”

“Thank you, darling, but I’ll manage.”

She did get offended after all; just a tiny bit offended, but still.

Which was not surprising at all. Not accustomed to courting a woman, especially a young one, who would want romance despite all her practicality and rationality. Almost forgot what went on in a girl’s head.

Sweet girl. Once such slim blue-eyed blondes, at once delicate and full of energy and optimism, could annoy with just one look at them. And they felt the same in kind.

Now most women, blondes and brunettes, slim and plump, young and mature, beautiful and mousy, felt a very definite curiosity. And even tried to satisfy it.

A satisfied smirk appeared as if by itself, seen so often on the faces of occasional lovers. And here, look, the man in the mirror smirks in the same way.

Even knowing so well the price of such overwhelming victories over proper Vor ladies.

Though the handsome and cheeky fellow with fiery eyes and manly jaw did not seem to know that. He was successful, though. And even managed to enjoy himself.

That charming Alice was in ecstasy, either from the efforts spent on her or from being the first to catch such an exotic example of a man as Dono Vorrutyer.

Actually, the first one was an expensive and experienced hooker who had no idea about her customer. After that it was possible to boldly accept an offer from any lady without worrying about the impressions she would later share with her no less proper friends. It was really very accommodating of Alice; how else to convince the society that someone was a real man?

The man in the mirror had long legs, wide shoulders, and his muscles were also above reproach. The Betan medics did their best and turned a beautiful female body into no less beautiful male one. Curly black body hair was somehow really annoying, though.

“I’m really fucking handsome for a former woman.”

The man in the mirror looked mocking, reproachful and pained. As if he did not like to have such rude words put into his mouth. He newer swore, unlike the woman he used to be.

“Oh yeah, go tell me it’s a woman in me who’s talking.”

It was unfamiliar and shameful to see such a bitter and furious face in the mirror. Far more shameful than to shake with fear before the hooker, trying hard to relax and enjoy the process.

“You aren’t me. You are just a part of me, young and stupid. You have no right to judge me.”

It was wrong to talk to the man in the mirror. The Betan psychologists doing the rehabilitation course did all they could for the patient to perceive himself as a man. Of course, there was no time for a full-scale therapy course. And Donna who came to Beta saw no particular need for it.

…And seeing self in the mirror for the first time…

She was not afraid, just worried whether the body looked manly enough to convince the Council of Counts. She stood before the mirror, eyes closed, while they took the bandages off her new body.

And then the man in the mirror opened his eyes.

And there was no more Donna.

There was only her… him… self.

And it’s useless to ask about self-perception; for the first weeks this self believed Dono Vorrutyer to be its true name.

This belief turned out to be contagious. It worked on everyone who had to be dealt with, from Byerly and Ivan to the crusty old Vor lords. And Olivia who had never in her life seen Donna became interested in Dono. And even enamoured of him, first just a little, and then more and more.

And it would have been an unacceptable folly not to pay attention to Miss Koudelka at that moment.

“Am I a calculating bitch or a calculating son of a bitch? Oh well, what’s the difference if the result is the same?”

The result was the count’s title, the support of both conservatives and progressives, a good (almost familial) relationship with the Vorkosigans. And today’s invitation to Miles’s wedding, into the inner circle.

Donna Vorrutyer simply wouldn’t have been allowed to achieve all this. She was not a Betan who’d be allowed extravagant behavior; she was just a woman.

Old habits had to be discarded. The training in correct behavior took up the main part of the rehabilitation period. To talk referring to self in correct gender, to walk without swinging the hips, not to gesture too wildly, not to flirt automatically in any conversation.

Old habits are our core. The man in the mirror grinned and tied his necktie with a rakish knot. Is it a habit to feel yourself a woman? Or are certain people a habit? Donna definitely got into a habit of tenderness for some people. But remembering, either with bitterness or with love, is a trait common to both men and women. It is a loss which can only conditionally be termed a loss - after all, it’s hard to lose what you don’t have. And Donna long ago stopped expecting the words: I want you to be my wife. In forty years of her life she got into the habit of not expecting anything from men.

She did not expect anything from the man in the mirror, either.

Not anything like this, that’s for certain.

Once, very long ago, when she still could allow herself be deluded, she obtained a very bad and inconsistent habit. The habit which decided to come back and shatter everything…

“Dono, Ivan called to ask whether we are ready,” Livvie peeked into the half-opened door.

“Come inside, will you?”

There was no trace of doubt or suspicion on Olivia’s face.

“I can understand that he worries like a mother hen, but his behavior looks like a stupid joke. I could live without more reminders of who I used to be.”

“Oh, stop grumbling,” Olivia said, shaking her head. “I’ll talk to Ivan. He still hasn’t grown up, and he sees your position just as a reason for jokes. I already told him we wouldn’t need him picking us up.”

“Good girl. It’s nice to put a former admirer in his place, isn’t it?”

“Sort of. He seems to envy you. Are you ready, then?”

“Always, my dear. Shall we go?”

Livvie hopped closer and gave the man in the mirror a peck on his cheek. For a moment there was a beautiful couple frozen inside a dark carved frame. A young golden-haired princess in a pale yellow dress, with magnolia flowers in her hair, pressed close to a slender dark-complexioned man with a mysterious look in his dark eyes.

Like a cover of a romance for childish idiots. Once, ages ago, a silly little girl dreamed of being a part of such a picture.

The man in the mirror smiled once more and kissed the top of the princess’s head.


End file.
